


Abiit nemine salutato

by HobblyWobbly



Category: Destiny (Video Games)
Genre: Angst, Grief/Mourning, I guess there is candal if you like squint, Wanted to practice writing Tevis
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-06-19
Updated: 2018-06-19
Packaged: 2019-05-25 09:53:59
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,581
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14974703
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/HobblyWobbly/pseuds/HobblyWobbly
Summary: "Then Andal goes and plays his final joke, and I end up as the punchline."Or, in other words, the rough week after Andal's death lands Cayde-6 in a bar mourning and gets comforted by Tevis.





	Abiit nemine salutato

**Author's Note:**

> Abiit nemine salutato = He went away without bidding anyone farewell

The bar, at this time of day, is never busy, but the dutiful Frame still works. It cleans the glasses- twice, just to make sure all the grime is out- it mops the floor where drunken fools tumble out from their seats to puke out their guts, it rubs down the dusty windows that never seem to become clean, and it leans against the counter watching the first customer of the morning stumble inside as if already drunk.

Each heavy step leaves a muddy boot print for the Frame to clean up later, a bottle of an acidic alcoholic drink already being procured from the stash below. It jumps when a pulse rifle is stiffly set down on the wooden counter, a stool being sat down upon by the Hunter who's face is hidden by a soaking hood. Water rolls down his hunched over form, but he doesn't move. It is as if he never knew a storm has been brewing outside and he just went for a nice sunny stroll.

When the Frame tries handing over the drink his hand is held up to stop the sliding glass, knuckles knocking it back the way it came. Something stronger he says through the gesture making the Frame whirs his limbs around and little annoyed clicking noises, whistling to himself to fill the silence. Only two sorts of people find themselves in this dingy bar at- the Frame checks the ancient clock hanging from the wall- 9 am in the morning. Drunks who were bar hopping all night long, hanging off their friend's arms giggling at some not-so-funny jokes, or those in mourning who cannot stand the sight of their own home so they need somewhere to lay low- somewhere they can drown their sorrows away instead of being comforted by someone else.

The newly handed over drink is held by a trembling hand that the customer hadn't even known was shaking until now. His other hand grasps the shaking one, the leather of his glove making a shifted noise when his grip is tightened. It's at this moment the Frame gets a good look at the customer and his whistling takes on a lighter tone now. It knows this exo who used to accompany the Hunter Vanguard every Thursday evening, their arms thrown around each other's shoulders sharing wild stories of the outside world or inappropriate jokes that had some fellow Guardians giving them a stink eye because how in the hell was that funny? Now he sits dripping with rainwater from the storm outside, boots half coated in mud, rips in his clothes, and a cloak hanging off his shoulders, heavy with a sort of guilt and mourn that will follow him for the centuries to come.

There are footsteps coming from the bar's entrance. Another hunter has stepped in from the rain outside, scarred hands tossing back a royal purple hood making greasy ginger strands frame about his battle-worn face. A flimsy cigarette is held between chapped lips, scarred hands tapping against his collar for a few silent moments. If the one sitting at the bar knows of the newcomer's presence he makes no notion.

"Knew I'd find you here," the ginger-haired human says in a deep voice that has the Frame pulling out a bottle of tequila. It knows these sorts of people; Nightstalkers. The kind who spend nights tossing and turning to battle the voices in their head, face Death in the eye smiling, and can shoot a glass being tossed into the air from 50 feet away. Cayde doesn't turn nor does he speak. He is too busy playing with the chipped wood from the counter, his long fingers pressing down on the tip breaking through the glove into the silicone of his finger. It doesn't faze him; the Frame didn't expect it to. "Hell of a journey I had to go through. Commander I-Got-A-Stick-Up-My-Ass almost fist of havoc'd my ass into the floor to keep me from searching for you."

A chair from one of the many tables is heavily placed down beside the occupied stool and straddled down by the ginger, the chair's back pressing against his chest as crossed arms rest upon the top. At the tequila bottle he winks, a bit of smoke exhaling out from his nostrils before he takes the drenched cigarette into his fingers. In one swift movement, the cigarette is being extinguished into his open bare palm, a little smoke rising up from the new black mark on his pale skin. Cayde doesn't even look in his direction. "Talk with me, Trigger Finger." The nickname he says has the exo snorting- a sound not very attractive but enough to have the nightstalker smirking.

"I should have noticed," Cayde speaks for the first time that morning and, even to the Frame, his voice sounds raw as if he had spent many hours crying out to the point his voice box is having malfunctions. It almost makes him human. "I was his best friend, Tev, and I didn't notice." His grip on the chipped wood tightens until the piece he was playing around with breaks off from the source.

"Neither did I and I knew him longer," he- Tevis- adds after sending the Frame another wink, uncorking the tequila bottle, and drinking down a quarter of it in one go. "The Void has a weird way of getting to people. The more stress a person is under the stronger the Void's grip becomes. Andal was always good at hiding his emotions. If anything I should have noticed." A sense of guilt falls over the two friends as Tevis taps his fingers against the bottle, brown eyes now watching the floor with some sort of interest. The Frame could never understand humans- or anyone other than their own kind, actually.

"I just feel..." He trails off after a long sigh. His shoulders slump forward and he waves a hand around to weakly gesture for a drink. The dutiful Frame does just that. Silence falls over the two mourning friends who do nothing but drink their own respectful drinks. Occasionally Tevis will tap his fingers against his palm where he put the cigarette out, the burn from said cigarette having no effect on him as he digs through his pocket to tug a fresh one out. Cayde snaps his fingers making a small flame of Solar Light blaze out from the fingertip to light the held out cigarette.

"Guilty? Pity? Mourn? Like you're the stupidest person in the entire universe? Yeah, welcome to the club kid," Tevis lists the emotions off on just one hand, sticking the now lit cigarette between his lips. He takes in a deep breath and exhales making a ring of smoke flow out. "Solar. Useful, but sure as hell addicting. What I'd do to trade," he sounds tired now. His head lolls forward until his forehead is resting against the bare arms resting atop his chair's back, the cigarette in his mouth still there and the smoke being released out framing his head. The exo beside him gives his back a couple of friendly pats. "Guess you're my boss now huh?"

"How the tables have turned," except when Cayde speaks there is a sad smile in his voice, the glass he was drinking from being held up into the air. "A toast. To Andal," this has Tevis looking up now, a sparkle in his rusty eyes and a smile tugging at his line etched lips. "For playing his last joke on us both." He finishes the short toast in just a matter of seconds, knocks his head back, and swallows up the rest of his drink. The shot glass makes a satisfying clink upon being smacked back down on the counter. It is a wonder to the Frame it didn't shatter from the force. Tevis just waves his free hand around and takes another swig from the tequila bottle.

"Take it easy," Tevis said. He stands up from the backward placed chair and lets his own hand linger upon the exo's back, the Frame taking note of how this hand wears a fingerless glove and the other where he put the cigarette out is bare. He is left-handed. "Andal would want you to." When Cayde sits up a bit straighter now, jaw lights flickering on to speak, the ginger is sweeping out back into the storm with a flick of his cloak.

"Ass," he mutters to himself. A handful of glimmer is set down on the counter for the Frame who just chirps a merry whistle in reply to the generous amount. "To pay for our shares," he explains. _To pay for Andal's many shares_ goes unsaid by him as he stands. Just as suddenly as he came, the Frame watches the new appointed Vanguard make his way back out again into the storm. The cloak hanging from his shoulders no longer holds the same guilt and sorrow it held when he first came stumbling in. It holds a new meaning- a new vow. Picking up another whistle, the Frame tugs a rag from under the counter to clean up the mess both hunters made.

And when Cayde comes stumbling into the bar many years later, an arm tossed over a shorter exo who's blue optics dart around the busy room and his yellow platting is still shiny and not worn over from battle, the Frame is already mixing together his favorite drink with a merry whistle.

**Author's Note:**

> I wrote this bad boy out on my Discord server not too long ago and, after some edits, decided I might as well post it since I really liked how it went


End file.
